


Patch Me Up

by TeamWincestiel27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Self-Harm, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:37:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3368129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamWincestiel27/pseuds/TeamWincestiel27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing that seems to help Sam control his hallucinations of Lucifer is pain. The cut on his hand can cure him for short amounts of time, but his wound is healing and Lucifer is getting stronger and Sam needs more and more pain to make Lucifer disappear.</p>
<p>Dean wants to help his little brother, but he doesn't know how.</p>
<p>Will love be the answer?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patch Me Up

"Sorry Sammy! You're gonna have to do better than that."

Sam squeezed his scar in vain. It just didn't hurt anymore and it wasn't doing anything to keep Lucifer at bay. He needed something more.

Talking to Dean helped sometimes. Dean could pull him out of it and drown out the sound of Lucifer's voice, but lately Dean was getting pulled into the hallucinations. Sam would smile and tell Dean he was better, but really he was choking down bile while watching his brother bleed and twist and deform in front of him. Even if Dean could help, he was out at the moment. A beer run so they would have something to drink tonight.

"Come on Sammy boy!" Lucifer taunted. "Whatcha gonna do? Can't get rid of me, can't ignore me, might as well have a chat. Right?"

Something stronger...something painful, but not deadly...

"Just a friendly talk! Nothing more. Promise."

Sam looked around the room frantically for something, anything that would cause some pain. If all else failed he'd just ram his head against the wall until Lucifer shut up. Not wanting to resort to possible brain damage he strode over to his bag and began rummaging. There, at the very bottom, was something he hadn't used in a very long time. It was a silver blade shaped like a scythe with ornate embelleshments along the handle, just a few shades darker than the shining silver of the blade itself. Sam ran his thumb across the edge gently, testing it. Satisfied, he stood and turned to Lucifer.

"Oh please! You're gonna stab me? You do know that I'm a FIGMENT OF YOUR IMAGINATION RIGHT?" He screamed at Sam, then began laughing. Sam glared, determined not to flinch and suddenly Lucifer went silent. "Or, maybe..." he said, "You've finally cracked?"

Sam's only response was to roll up his shirt sleeve. He took a breath pressed the knife into his skin. It bit harshly and blood began welling up instantly. He glanced at Lucifer who flickered for a moment before becoming solid again. Determined, Sam pressed on. He'd had plenty worse, he could take this. The kife glided across his arm in a smooth arc and the blood dripped to the floor silently. Sam hissed under his breath and looked back at Lucifer who flickered, then vanished.

Finally, a moments peace.

Sam sighed in relief and looked back at his arm. It wasn't too bad, but it definitely needed attention. He moved to the bathroom and began cleaning and bandaging his cut while he thought about what to tell Dean. Dean would probably just worry and, since there wasn't anything Dean could do to help, that would just cause him unecessary stress. It was probably best he not say anything.

He rolled down his sleeve at stepped out of the bathroom with a towel to clean up the blood he'd left on the floor.

"Sam?"

He started and stared, wide-eyed, at Dean. He hadn't heard him come in.

Dean looked at him with an unclear expression. Anger? Concern? Maybe both. "You wanna tell me why there's a puddle of blood on the carpet?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean shut the door of the motel behind him and set the beer and snacks in the tiny excuse for a kitchen. He assumed Sam was in the bathroom since the light was on, grabbed one of the still-cold beers from the case and wandered toward the living room to watch some TV. He was almost there when he realized there was something on the ground. He turned back and looked down. Halfway to the living room there was a small puddle of blood slowly being soaked into the carpet.

"What the hell...?" he whispered to himself.

He was just starting to feel the first pangs of fear when the bathroom door opened. Dean jerked his head up and tensed, ready for a fight, but what stepped out was not a monster.

"Sam?"

He looked like a deer in the headlights his eyes were so wide. All the color drained from his face instantly and his mouth fell open, but otherwise he looked unscathed. Dean was relieved, but still on edge.

"You wanna tell me why there's a puddle of blood on the floor?"

Sam hesitated, and Dean could almost see the gears turning in his head. He knew his brother better than he knew himself. Sam was about to lie to him.

"I-uh. It was nothing. Just an accident cleaning one of my knives."

Suddenly, Dean was furious. He was tired of all Sam's lies and sneaking around, damnit. He just wanted to help. Why couldn't Sam see that?

"Don't lie to me, Sam." he said, his voice rough and dangerous.

"What? No, I..." Sam began nervously wringing the towel in his hands without thinking, and winced when his wounded arm flexed.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Must have been one hell of an accident if it hurts that bad."

Sam cleared his throat and looked around, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah, well, it happens. I'm just gonna clean this up." He moved toward the puddle, brandishing the towel.

"Like hell you are. Let me see your arm!" Dean grabbed Sam's wounded arm, accidentally digging into the cut and reopening it.

"Shit-! Fuck, Dean! Get off!" he jerked his arm to get away, but Dean held tight. Dean lifted Sam's shirt sleeve and revealed the newly blood-soaked bandages.

"Jesus, Sammy...what the hell did you do?" Sam clenched his jaw, but said nothing. He allowed Dean to unwrap the bandages and get a better look at his arm.

"Sam...this ain't an accident...why would you do this?"

Sam sighed heavily. "Lucifer." he said. "He wouldn't shut up and I thought that...because of the cut on my hand...I thought it might help."

Dean swallowed dryly. "Did it?"

"Yeah. He's been gone for awhile now."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Well, uh, let's get you patched back up. Maybe take it a little easier next time."

"Yeah, sure." Sam said.

"Oh, and Sam?" Sam looked at Dean hesitantly. "No more lies."

Sam nodded and made a mental note not to bleed all over the place next time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks later Sam had to do it again. He'd tried to hide it from Dean again, but Dean noticed him wincing in pain whenver he did anything with his hands.

"I told you to take it easy Sam. I know it helps with the...the hallucinations or whatever, but you can't just cut your arm off."

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam snapped. "I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, whatever, just be more careful."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sam finally cut deep enough to need stitches it was a month after the first cut. His left arm was full of red and angry marks in varying stages of healing and the new mark bled profusely over them, dripping onto the bathroom counter and floor.

"Shit..." he swore under his breath.

Right on cue, Dean walked into the motel.

"Guess what kind of pie they had!" he said. "Cherry! I told you yesterday how much I wanted a cherry pie and they had-"

He stopped short when he saw Sam in the bathroom, frantically trying to stop the bleeding with a towel and looking very embarrassed.

"What the fuck, Sam?" his was voice barely a whisper. In two strides he was in the bathroom assessing the wound.

"Gonna need stitches." He said matter of factly.

Sam stayed quiet while Dean rummaged around through his bag for the first aid kit (dental floss, needle, whiskey). He felt ashamed of himself for giving in to Lucifer yet again. He wondered, as he did often, why he wasn't stronger.

Dean came back into the room and handed him the bottle of whiskey. He took it and drank eagerly, knowing what was coming next.

The alcohol burned his throat, but that was nothing compared to how it felt on his fresh wound. Dean worked quickly and deliberately, making sure the wound was closed tight. He splashed it with whisky one more time, for good measure, before rinsing it off and bandaging it.

Dean had been quiet the whole time, so when he suddenly spoke it startled Sam.

"You're startin' to scare me here, Sam."

Sam refused to look at him. "What do you want me to do? It helps. A couple stitches won't kill me." He took a long drink of whisky.

Dean nodded, but he wasn't convinced. Sam needed something to help him with his crazy, but was this really the answer?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that, Sam needed stitches more often and in more than one place at a time. He'd moved on to his other arm now and was running out of space fairly quickly. Dean was starting to panic at this point. He'd let it go too far and didn't know how to stop it, or even if he should.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_Six months after the first cut_ **

"Just relax, man. I'll only be gone like an hour. You need to rest."

Sam let out an exasperated groan. "Dean, come on! I'm fine. I feel fine!"

"You are _not_ fine. You slept for like 12 hours straight last night. I'm telling you, it's blood loss."

Sam flopped on the couch, wincing. He had moved from his arms to his legs and various other parts of his body for cuts, and everything was sore. He pouted anyway.

"I'm gonna go get dinner." Dean said. "Just turn on the TV and relax. Or do whatever it is you do when you're not doing research." and with that Dean grabbed his jacket and was gone.

Sam turned on the TV and flicked through the channels restlessly. He always felt anxious when Dean was away. It was like the silence gave Lucifer an easy path into his mind. Sam almost always cut when Dean was gone.  
Maybe if he took a nap while he waited, Lucifer would stay away. He turned the TV volume on low and settled on the couch.

"I don't think so, Sam!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean hurried as much as he could. He knew it was dangerous to leave Sam alone, but he needed the rest. He was just getting back into his car with the food when his phone rang.

It was Sam.

He answered, hoping Sam had just remembered a request for his burger.

"Yeah?"

A shaky breath was his only reply.

"Sam?" Dean asked.

"...Dean...I..." he stopped, breathing heavily.

"Shit, Sam, talk to me what happened?" he hastily threw the bag of food into the passengers seat and started up the Impala. "Sam!"

The line went dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean flung the door open and rushed inside. Sam was there, alive -- thank god. He was curled up in the far corner of the room leaning against the wall with his knees to his face and his hands covering his head. He was mumbling something that, as Dean got closer, he could make out as "go away" and "leave me alone" in various forms. Dean placed a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder and Sam looked up, eyes wide and face tear-streaked.

"He won't go away." Sam said softly. "I tried. I made sure not to go too deep, but if I don't he won't stop. And I'm starting to wonder if he'll ever go away. I'm so tired, Dean. I just want it to stop." He choked on a sob and ran his hands over his face, trying to compose himself.

"It's ok, Sammy, I'm here." Dean didn't know what to do. He reached out and put his hands on his brothers shoulders, only a modicum of comfort, but he didn't know how to help anymore. Over the months he'd tried helping Sam cope other ways. Distraction, mostly. Hell he'd even tried yoga with the guy. No matter what, Lucifer always came back and stayed back until Sam cut. They'd tried everything.

Well, not everything. But could that even work?

_You're out of options at this point anyway..._ he thought.

He held Sam's face in one hand and pushed his hair aside with his other. He was by no means certain of this. If Sam felt at all like Dean did he had never shown it, but, then again, Dean had never let on that he had more-than-brotherly feeling for Sam either. Fuck he'd only even come to terms with it recently anyway and that by no means meant he was ready to actually deal with it.

But considering Sam's life was on the line here...

Even if Sam didn't feel the same, it still might work. If nothing else maybe the shock ( _or disgust_ he told himself) could distract him long enough to give him some relief. And at this point he was willing to risk their entire relationship on this if it could save his life. Or at least make him feel better for the time being.

"Dean?"

Dean snapped out of his daze. He'd been staring at Sam and absently rubbing his thumb over Sam's cheek. Had Sam gotten closer?

His heart pounded. This could ruin everything and for nothing. But he was desperate. He gathered all his courage and in one motion leaned in and pressed his lips to Sam's.

Sam grunted in surprise and stiffened.

_Shit._  Dean thought. _I fucked up._ He began to pull away, an apology and an excuse already on his lips -- I slipped. It was an accident. Won't happen again. --when a hand reached up and touched his cheek, pulling him closer. Sam leaned in at the same time, meeting Dean in the middle. Dean froze, he hadn't expected that and now he really wasn't sure how to respond.

Sam pulled away looking confused. Dean's face looked much the same and Sam thought for a moment he understood, taking Dean's unspoken excuses for truth.

"Oh." He said. "You didn't...I mean...oh, god. Dean, I'm sorry I didn't-" Dean cut him off with another kiss. It was still stiff, but this time he waited for Sam to respond.

Sam relaxed into the kiss almost immediately and Dean took the opportunity to deepen it. He swiped his tongue gently over Sam's lips and slid in between. Sam let out a small moan and opened his mouth wider to let Dean in. They kissed slow and soft, tongues entwining.

Dean broke away first and stared at Sam, his eyes questioning. He didn't know what to ask first. He decided to ask about Lucifer.

"So...I was kinda hoping that would help. Did it...is  he gone?"

"Yeah." Sam sounded breathless. "It worked."

Dean nodded in approval. "Good. That...that's good."

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Is that the only reason that you...?"

Dean flushed pink and cleared his throat nervously.

"Well, actually, ah...no. That's not the only reason."

Suddenly, Sam was smiling. Dean couldnt remember the last time he had seen Sam smile like that.

"That's kinda what I was hoping to hear." Sam said.

Dean's blush deepened.

"C'mon." he said. "We should get you patched up."

**Author's Note:**

> The ending was a little anti-climatic I'm sorry >.


End file.
